"Gil?" Catherine called as she entered his quiet townhouse. There was no answer but nothing seemed amiss so she decided to see if his car was in the garage. Her heels clicked hollowly across the floor and she called out his name again in a desperate plea for him to answer.

She smelled it first, that scent present at murder scenes, but was powerless to stop her forward progression. When she edged into the kitchen and saw him lying in a pool of congealed blood she started screaming. As she sunk to the floor a blanket was thrown over her head and she immediately began to struggle. An evil laugh cackled just behind her ear and she flailed maniacally, painfully smacking the back of her hand against the cabinet. That was when she woke up, tangled in sweat soaked sheets.

"Shit," she muttered, untangling herself and easing to the side of the bed. She massaged her aching right hand, realizing she must have hit the headboard. On trembling legs, she lurched to the bathroom and splashed her face with cool water. She avoided looking in the mirror and quickly turned her back to it as she dried her face and neck with a hand towel. Eyeing the two half empty water bottles on her night stand ­ one for each bad dream that had torn her from sleep ­ she decided another fresh, cold one was in order.

"Let's see ­ you were after the courtroom." Catherine hefted the bottle in her left hand and remembered the second dream in which colleagues and jurors had viciously accused her of not caring enough for Gil. Angry, accusing faces flew at her and no matter what she said they didn't stop and didn't believe her. She'd awakened clutching a pillow in a death grip.

"And, I don't even want to remember the dream before you." Catherine told the bottle in her right hand as she stumbled down the stairs. That one was violent and bloody. After it, she took some medication prescribed by her doctor for anxiety and stress. As was usual, she hesitated, wracking her brain to remember the last time she'd taken some. Although her doctor had reassured her it was merely a mild beta-blocker and wasn't habit forming, she still searched for any sign of dependency. Nestling back in her bed she watched To Have or Have Not until she fell asleep just after Lauren Bacall uttered one of those famous lines. "You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow."

A pleasantly erotic dream followed. Catherine found herself blushing as she recalled it. Most if it involved Gil doing wicked things with his tongue then blowing across her overly sensitized flesh. She pulled a fresh bottle of water out of the refrigerator then leaned against the counter as she gulped half of it down. After a moment, she rubbed the bottle across her forehead then rested it against each cheek and her neck while thinking of things she'd like to do to him.

"Never gonna happen," she muttered then glanced at the clock. She had half an hour before Lindsey got home from school. Maybe, they could do something fun for awhile then drop by the hospital for a visit with Gil……….

*********************************

Catherine pulled the visor down to study her reflection in the mirror. She had carefully concealed the puffy eyes and dark circles. Her lips glistened in a perfectly kissable smile. She stepped out of her Denali and tugged at her top after a downward glance ­ just enough cleavage for Gil's eyes to be focused south but not so much that she would have to change before work. Her confidence restored, she slung her bag over her shoulder, retrieved the cherry-vanilla malt from the cup holder and mounted the steps at Desert Palms to visit Gil.

"Hey!" She greeted a dozing Gil after signing in with the officer at the door to his room. She had noted the list of names above hers: the sheriff, the mayor, Brass, Greg, Warrick and Tina, Doc Robbins………even Jacqui had stopped by. Although his room was not private, no one occupied the other bed. "Looks like you're keeping the FTD man in business!"

"Hi," he roused up, "Yeah, I've no idea what to do with all these flowers."

"Weeelll, I suppose you could ask the staff to distribute them among the less fortunate." Catherine replied, although she had an eye on a Gloxinia she'd like for herself then pulled the malt from behind her back. "I brought you something a little different."

"You, are an angel," he exclaimed as he snatched it from her, pried the lid off and used the spoon to stir it then scooped some in his mouth. "God, that's good. I slept through lunch and dinner wasn't very satisfying ­ tasteless chicken broth, lime jello, strawberry- banana yogurt." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I hate bananas and lime is only good when it's fresh."

"That was all they brought?"

"There was also applesauce, milk and bad coffee." Gil recalled. "I managed to choke down everything but the yogurt. Slimy bananas, how can people eat those things?"

"Certain people I know eat raw oysters and boiled okra. Those are at the top of my slimy ick list." Catherine pointed out.

"Hmmpft." He grunted in response while shoveling another spoonful of malt into his mouth. After swallowing he noted. "I only eat okra in gumbo."

"That doesn't really cut down the slime factor." Catherine rebutted then poked through the cards accompanying the various flower arrangements to see who they were from.

"You okay?" He inquired after carefully studying her over his malt.

"Sure," Catherine answered then flipped her hair over her shoulder. She plucked another card from a plant and read it. "Wow, news travels quick. Ben Harris lives in Dallas now?"

"Apparently," Gil evenly replied and pursued the previous conversation thread by asking. "Bad dreams?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Your makeup is perfect, as usual, but a little heavy around the eyes. And, you tend to fuss with your hair under stress." Gil observed. Catherine glanced back at the note pretending to be fascinated.

"Ben says that this is a favorite among," she stumbled over the scientific name, "uh, it's an aphid that lives in a symbiotic relationship with black ants. Are you gonna start an ant farm?"

"Mmm, I've already experimented with this. There are a number of ant and aphid species that share a common existence. Aphids produce honeydew, which the ants feed on. The ants herd and protect the aphids, much like humans treat cattle." Gil informed then steered the topic right back. "Brass stopped by for a visit or should I say interrogation."

"What did he ask?" Catherine reinserted the note into its envelope.

"It was what he didn't ask that was more interesting."

"And that was?" She asked while tucking the card back into it's holder.

"He didn't ask if I had any idea who did this which tells me he has a suspect although he wouldn't say who. He didn't ask why I hadn't informed you. Hence, he knew we had discussed it." Gil paused to study the effect of his words before continuing. Catherine carefully examined another card. "He didn't directly mention Sara, although he made a couple of oblique references. I was……….careful, in my responses."

"I told him," Catherine admitted with a shrug but avoided eye contact "about your car and the possibility of her following you."

"And, his response wasn't……..kind, was it?" Gil asked.

"What do you mean?" Catherine glanced up.

"He made you feel guilty. As though, this were partially your fault." Gil replied, remembering exactly how felt to get on that side of Jim Brass, then he added. "Guilt tends to make you have bad dreams. Perhaps, you found me in a pool of congealed blood?"

"How did you know?" She gasped before she could stop herself.

"No else would come looking for me." Gil was pensive but honest. "I've often made it known that one day I would just disappear. You are the only person who wouldn't just accept that……… you would require an answer. Therefore, you would find me. Jim pointed out that if my attacker had brought a gun………"

"Yeah, he pointed that out to me, as well." Catherine tersely cut him off. This wasn't going as planned. Gil, being Gil, was carefully bypassing all her subterfuge.

"Listen carefully." Gil started to sit up higher in the bed and nearly spilled what remained of his malt. "This is not, in any way, your fault."

"Gil!" She protested.

"It IS not your fault!" He adamantly proclaimed and tried to still the shaking in his hands. He ended up with the Styrofoam malt cup cradled against his belly with both hands.

"I was the one who first suggested you leave Sara alone."

"And, it was sound advice." Gil rebutted and let that hang for a moment before asking. "So, you suspect that Sara is behind this?"

"I don't know." Catherine replied after a heavy sigh. "When I left this morning, Sophia was going to look at your phone records and Brass was going to check out Sara. If he seemed to have a suspect and you think it's Sara, then he must have found something."

"Call him and find out." Gil urged.

"How can you ask me that? I can't, I can't………that's not appropriate."

"Cath, I'm the victim ­ not a suspect. When did it become inappropriate to keep the victim informed?"

"Gil, we have both let things out before we should have," Catherine began, recalling the Barger's and Tammy Felton's parents. "With disastrous results as I recall."

"Okay, maybe I'm out of line." Gil capitulated after briefly searching her eyes. "Just tell me when you can?"

"I will do that." Catherine promised then changed the subject again. "Have they scheduled your CAT scan?"

"Seven AM." Gil answered. "If it's okay, they'll release me."

"After I get Lindsey off to school, I'll come by to pick you up." She promised.

**********************

Catherine eased her Denali into the parking space reserved for the Graveshift supervisor. She was considering how many times she had passed this spot and observed Gil's Mercedes already in place. Urgent knocking on the passenger window shocked her out of reverie. Warrick gestured to the locked passenger door. She unlocked it and he jumped in.

"Sara called Nick. Brass brought her in for questioning." Warrick breathlessly informed.

"Nick?" Catherine exclaimed. "What for?"

"I figure she needed a lawyer or maybe she just wanted some moral support." Warrick answered with a shrug then added the only other piece of information he had garnered. "Nick made a call then lit out like his head was on fire and his ass was catching."

"Oh, my God!" Catherine muttered as she restarted the Denali then screeched out of the parking place.

TBC